


Modernista

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Devil's Carnival (2012)
Genre: Alcohol, Cocktail Fic Challenge, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, F/M, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-25 03:38:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After her whipping, Merrywood gets a visit from the Twin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Modernista

The entire back of Merrywood's body was aching. Not just aching, either - throbbing in time to the beat of her heart, stinging with sweat whenever she moved. The whipping had been painful. Very painful. Odd, in its own way - no blood was drawn, for some reason. You'd think there would be more, especially since they were in Hell, and the denizens of Hell loved blood, didn't they? Assuming this was actually Hell, and not... well, she wasn't sure what else it would be, since nothing else seemed to make sense.

She was lying in the straw, on her aching back, her hands tied together. There were no doubt going to be more punishments, for whatever she did. "Shadow takes all", the stranger with the odd face (with more than one odd face, even) had said, but what did "all" entail, exactly? It had all been a blur at first, but now... now, lying here, staring up at the ripped roof of the tent, now she was thinking. Thinking too much.

It was almost a relief when she heard the footsteps, and she attempted to sit up straight, although she gave up on that pretty quickly, when the straw bit into the tender skin on her back and thighs. She looked up expectantly - maybe the ticket master would come in, talking about how it was all a mistake. Or maybe the man who had looked so distracted, and so sad.

But no. It was the stranger, with the... strange face, and the long top hat. He was grinning, inasmuch as it was possible to tell. The way his skin sat on his face looked odd, and it made his expression look... crafty.

"Well, how are you enjoying our hospitality?" He sat down next to her, and something about the way he walked looked weird. Well, no, everything about him looked weird, but he moved like someone unused to legs. He sat next to her heavily, and his skin flickered, like something was moving under it. Merrywood shuddered and attempted to shuffle away from him, but with her wrists and ankles tied together and her sore skin, it made moving difficult.

"I am going to sue that ugly hat off of you," Merrywood spat, and she was proud of how brave she sounded, considering she didn't feel it. At least that horrible girl was gone, the one who laughed and played with Merrywood's hair.

"I don't think my hat is ugly," said the stranger, and he took it off, inspecting it. His other arm went casually over her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. It slid her ass across the straw, and the prickles made her wince. She could feel a headache beginning in the side of her head, and the dim orange lighting wasn't helping. "There are, of course, no hard feelings." There was something odd about his "s".

"No. Of course not. No hard feelings towards the guy who tricked me, stripped me naked, and then had me whipped!" She tried to squirm away from him, but his skinny arm held her tight against his bony side, and she sighed, giving up enough to take a bit of comfort out of the contact. He wasn't actively trying to hurt her, after all, and he was warm. Hell was surprisingly cold - or maybe folks weren't expected to walk around naked in it. Regardless, she was grateful for a break in the shivering.

"I didn't flog you," the stranger said, and his fingers were trailing down her back, along the knobs of her spine. They traced the welts from the whip, pressing gently, and she winced, trying to pull away even as he held her closer. "And I did tell you."

"How did you tell me?" She stretched her legs out in front of her, wincing at the cramps, then realized that she was naked (how the hell had she forgotten that in the first place?!) and brought them back up in an attempt to keep some semblance of modesty. "You said "Here, there's a diamond, just throws the coins into the egg!""

"High stakes," the Twin said, and the hand now on Merrywood's shoulder was rummaging around. The flask from earlier - how much earlier? Time was getting confusing, without a sun or a moon - appeared, as if by magic, and he opened it one handed, taking a sip, then holding it to her mouth. "Drink this."

"What is it?" Merrywood said, or at least attempted to. The Twin almost forced it down her throat, and the liquid glugged across her tongue, down her throat. It burned. She coughed, trying to turn her head away, but his hand with its long spindly fingers grabbed her chin, keeping it in place.

"Something for a modern girl like you," he said lightly, and took the flask away as she gasped, trying to get her breath back.

Whatever it was, it tasted complicated - there was rum and Scotch and lemon, but she also tasted licorice, and something that was almost... orange? She licked her lips, and her head was already starting to spin, or was it the ground? If they were in Hell, did that count as still being in the world? On the world? Under it? Oh, that was strong stuff, whatever it was.

"You're a very modern lady, aren't you?" He smiled at her, and his tongue flickered out for a moment. It was longer than it looked originally, and now she realized that he didn't seem to have any eyebrows, just ridges. The circles under his eyes were almost like makeup, and she was seized by the urge to feel them under her fingertips. Pity her wrists were tied up.

"What do you mean, modern?" She saw the flask coming towards her again, and this time she just swallowed, because it was easier and less painful. The licorice-rum-Scotch-orange filled her head up, seemed to almost evaporate through her sinuses to mingle with her thoughts like so much smoke.

"I mean modern," said the stranger, and he was lifting her up, holding her in his lap, one hand on her sore back (none too gently), the other still holding the flask. When he pulled the flask away, alcohol dripped across her chest, and she winced instinctively, almost expecting it to burn.

"But... but what kind of modern? By what sense?" She squirmed, leaning heavily against him, breathing heavily. Was that a heartbeat under her shoulder? She couldn't be sure.

"What sense do you want it to be?" He ducked forward, nearly knocking the hat into her face as his long tongue flickered across her skin, licking up the droplets of alcohol and sweat, making her blush.

"What do you mean?" She pushed at his chest with both hands, wishing her feet were free. Wishing she could think straight, and that she wasn't here. Wishing to get her hands on that gorgeous hunk of a diamond.

"I'm anything you want me to be," the stranger said, and his - its? - face changed, the skin rippling, until she was looking into her own face, then the face of the man at the front of the carnival, then the man who had whipped her, then the clown who had been playing the harmonica.

Merrywood shivered all over, the terror crawling across her skin like worms, and she couldn't put her finger on it, only that whatever the stranger had just done, it wasn't... right. She shuddered again, staring at him wide eyed as his face returned to its normal self, and that was a joke in and of itself, wasn't it?

"Or do you simply find me, as myself, more interesting?" He leaned in close to her, nuzzling her neck, if that was what it could be called, when he was just shoving his head into the back crook of her neck and licking it with his strange, dry tongue.

"I don't... I don't understand," she mumbled, and he was lifting her up again, lying her flat on her back, which was protesting quite loudly. It hurt, a lot. Why did it hurt so much?

"I am whoever you see me as," he said, and he was looming over her, his long, lanky body covering hers, his hands planted on either side of her head. The hat had fallen off, and she saw his stringy black hair, which sat stiffly on his head.

"But I just see you as... you." She squirmed under him, and he forced her knees open, fingers trailing up her thighs, making her shiver. His skin was smooth and somehow felt... dusty, and it made her shiver more, even while her legs parted of their own volition.

"No, you don't." His fingertip was gentle as it stroked over her clit, making her shudder and squirm. She made a noise between a sigh and a moan at the drag of the straw across her pained skin, the contrast with the heat throbbing between her legs.

Why was she reacting like this? Had the drink he had given her had something in it? Was Hell just the type of place to do that to someone? She lolled her head back, breathing heavily and staring at him glassy eyed.

"You really are the modern type," he said idly, and the hand not between her legs was fumbling with his pants, unfastening them. She looked down, nervous and excited while the ground spun underneath her, and was somewhat relieved that his cock wasn't too... strange. Apart from the color and the texture, which was the same as his face. At least there was only one. "Thinking you can know everything about a person."

"Isn't... isn't that... from everywhere?" She forced her legs open wider, and gasped when his finger slid into her and curved. It was impossibly long, and she thrashed under him, breathing heavily, only dimly aware of the heat and pain on her back, legs, and ass.

"I'm older than anywhere," he said, and he stood up, grabbing her legs with both hands and lifting them up and apart. He more or less crawled under them, and he was caught in the cage of her legs, his bony hips digging into her thighs.

"You can't be older than anywhere," Merrywood said, and she hissed when the head of his cock brushed against her clit, squirming more. She didn't know what she wanted, if she wanted this or not. She knew she wanted the diamond, and... that was about it.

"I'm older than every place, except one." He held her open with one hand and guided himself into her with the other, then pushed in, hard enough that the pain of it momentarily out shouted the pain of her back.

"What?" She squirmed around him and under him, squeezing his hips with her thighs, attempting to pull him closer. The pain was... she didn't know what it was, but it filled her up and made her head stop spinning, ever so slightly. It made the terror that had been clawing its way up her throat since she'd woken up in the room full of mirror recede.

"I was in the garden," he whispered in her ear, and his dry tongue flickered against her ear as his hips begin to move, pressing in and out of her, almost wriggling inside of her, and it was making lights go off in the backs of her eyes. "The first one. I was the one who convinced that woman to take a bite."

"B-but... weren't your legs taken away?" She half remembered old Sunday school classes, boredom, admiring the golden cross the teacher was wearing, with the little diamond right in the center.

"They were given back to me when I came here," he whispered in her ear, and he bit it, his teeth like needles.

She gasped, tensing up around him, and she felt him shudder on top of her and inside of her. She shifted her arms up, maneuvering awkwardly, until they were up and over his head, resting on the back of his neck. It was slightly less uncomfortable than having them squashed between their two bodies, at least. She could feel his skin, the bumpy, raspy feel of it.

"You are a thing of the modern world," he whispered in her ear as his hips sped up, and when she felt the throb of heat inside of her, she sobbed dryly, shivering, almost convulsing. She gasped when he pulled out of her, squirming and wriggling, because she wanted to cum, more than she could believe, but he was standing up and away, grinning like a snake as he put himself back into his pants and did them up.

"Where are you going? I wasn't done!" She pressed her thighs together, and now that she wasn't being directly stimulated, her body seemed to remember all of the pain, and it returned, with interest, until she sobbed again, squeezing her eyes shut.

"That's a very modern sentiment," he said, and he patted her on the head and walked off, practically whistling.

She sighed, shaking all over, and kept her eyes closed, keeping the taste of licorice and oranges and rum in her mouth, and the beautiful diamond in her mind's eye.


End file.
